


Make This Final Breakthru

by witchlinghideaway



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1940s, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drinking, Feelings Realization, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, what happens in aziraphale's back room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 17:29:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19817083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchlinghideaway/pseuds/witchlinghideaway
Summary: ‘But why- why would you not even consider-’ Crowley growled.‘Do you know what kind of trouble it will lead us to if we let…’ he paused again, thinking of a good way to define it, but failing nonetheless. ‘If we let that happen?’Or, in which Aziraphale goes home with Crowley and sweetness ensues.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In order to write, I had to assume Crowley and Aziraphale’s pronouns were he/him in the 1940s (considering the time period). I finished writing this short fic on 07/11/19 and a mere 10 hours after I saved it on my computer, I stumbled across Neil Gaiman’s response on twitter about how they basically don’t identify as men as much as they present themselves as men, for example Crowley quite clearly doesn’t identify as male when being Warlock’s nanny. You could label them as non-binary, or genderless (I like to identify Crowley as genderfluid, but I’m not one to tell people what to think). You could just as well not label them. I’ll use other pronouns for different periods of time as they might seem to be of different gender identities.  
> For this one, I could not help but play on the possible cheesy-sexy aspect of their relationship. Angels and demons are not typically sexual beings, which is great in the way that their pairing show a relationship that is just as real and beautiful as any and that sex does not define how one loves. But also, I like to imagine (and I think so do a lot of people) that being so much among humans could make them feel a bit as such and get accustomed to their doings. Also, writing fanfic is writing derivatives of the source material and does not stain the quality or identity of the source material. If you wish to write weird, sexual, dark or anything extreme based on the series or the book, do it! ANNND Neil Gaiman saying how he accepts all headcanons gives us great freedom in writing 😉  
> Whether you like the idea of them being sexual or not, I hope you will enjoy this short fic that is full of cheese (haha)! And for all you filthy dudes and dudettes out there, feel free to check out the next page. But to be honest, it hints more than it shows the thing because I am not really that good at writing this kind of stuff. Anyway! Give me feedback if you like and follow me for more fluffy and angsty fics!

London, 1941

‘Little demonic miracle o’ my own’ Crowley said as he handed the bag to his friend. ‘Lift home?’  
The demon started walking towards his car, leaving the angel completely awestruck. Aziraphale had not yet moved an inch, gawping at his savior opening the car door for him. He felt his feet were glued to the ground. Somehow his fondness for Crowley had taken over him and he could not get his head around how strong it had become. After all, he saved both his precious books and his person. His [slightly] nervous wreck of a person – who was also way too subdued. Crowley, patiently, stared at him with quite a bit of confusion. 

‘So’ the demon called out. ‘Getting in?’

And Aziraphale snapped out of it.  
‘Yes. Yes, of course’ 

He hurried to the Bentley and the pair soon drove out of the area. There were no stars in the sky and a small breeze caressed Aziraphale’s curls, as he rested his arm at the open window. The night was delightful. It felt like nothing could be better than this: being alive, good books in hand, having a nice weather, and a dear one close by. His friend at the wheel was looking at him from time to time, drawing a smile. And it was not only about a nice evening, nor killing Nazis. The angel did not know about these gazes. Not that he did not gaze often on himself. He figured he was as discreet as one could be and never actually drew attention to its importance. 

Crowley pulled in by Aziraphale’s bookshop. And as the angel stepped out of the car, he noticed the beaming glow of his face, his eyes on the façade. It made him feel somewhat awed that, even though 140 years had gone by, his angel still felt exhilarated as he did the first day. The bookworm unlocked the door and then turned around.

‘Care to join me in?’ he asked his companion.

Crowley’s face lit up. He slammed his car door shut and walked forward to the entrance.

‘Are you sure?’ the demon asked, smirking. His friend’s smile answered for him. ‘You have any bottles in your backroom?’  
‘You know I always do’ the angel said. He had a cheeky grin as he invited his friend in. 

Crowley padded around the room, brushing the shelves and eying the ancient books. He was just sitting in a large easy chair with flowery pattern, as his dear went to find something to drink. His fingers tapped on the very armrest for a little while, then taking off his hat and sunglasses. Aziraphale came back at this exact second. Two large glasses but no bottle. Crowley, a little puzzled, only gave him a look.

‘Oh, right!’  
The angel miracled a bottle of the finest French wine he could think of and handed his friend a glass. He poured him some carefully, smiling, admiring its beautiful red.

‘Châteauneuf-du-pape’ he stated. ‘Freshly imported. My first time trying it’  
‘Aah! Must I feel so flattered to be your experimenter then?’

Crowley had always been smug like this. The angel had grown accustomed to it, over the course of -a little more than- 5 000 years, and did not even bother answering anymore. He just looked at him; the demon was staring with his yellow eyes twinkling with some sort of eagerness. Aziraphale looked away and poured wine in his own glass. Once both their glasses full, they sipped and smiled at the taste. And before they could even realize it, they had drunken ¾ of the bottle.

An hour later.

‘But why- why would you not even consider-’ Crowley growled.  
‘Do you know-’

The angel paused. He was about to go ballistic, but the alcohol blocked him by some small gastric reflux. Charming. He had to hold back for a minute, which calmed him a bit. It was not an anger built from resentment, but rather built from frustration. And this specific frustration had been present for the whole time both entities had known each other. 

‘Do you know what kind of trouble it will lead us to if we let…’ he paused again, thinking of a good way to define it, but failing nonetheless. ‘If we let that happen?’

Crowley’s face crumpled. He did know, but it did not matter to him. If life on Earth taught him anything, it was that there was no exciting life that was secure. Or maybe it was his reckless persona that made him lack this excitement. Aziraphale did not seem to be hostile to his proposition, but they had the weight of their parties resting on their shoulders. And it was always a burden. The demon got up, staggering a bit on his way, to refill his glass. He hastily drank the whole thing, which started to worry his friend. A burp left his mouth. 

‘Angel’

The concerned party stared at him, fazed. He was expecting anything but to see him sitting on the floor in silence, looking away. No words were spoken, only sips of wine were heard. Aziraphale, after putting his glass on his coffee table, loosened his bowtie and sunk into his seat. Crowley, on the same spot, grabbed his friend’s glass and finished it in a mouthful. Finally, he was back at looking at him. He knew he just wanted to have some affection. From him.

‘My dearest angel’ he murmured.

The aforementioned angel looked back at him, meeting his yellow serpent eyes and then seeing his hand touching his knee. He was stretching in order to reach it. Aziraphale felt relieved that he seemed to still care and he just wished what he said did not hurt him -as much as he thought at least.

‘In the last…’ he started to think deeply, mind clouded by the alcohol. ‘…5 900 something years, I never cared for anyone the way I care about you’

Aziraphale’s mouth opened slightly. He was moved by his words and so, did not even know how to respond to them. 

‘And, you know’ he continued, as he took his hand off ‘I cannot speak for you, and for how you feel about me. I gu- I guess history doesn’t make the thing… I always thought there was more than just…history’

Aziraphale, rather speechless, jumped from his seat to kneel beside him. His hands were a bit sweaty. Nevertheless, he could not help but want to comfort him. He placed his hand on his shoulder and softly patted him in a way he knew worked on him before. Angels always had a way of helping people and soothe them in the best manner. And of course, Aziraphale, being incredibly sweet, was the best at seeing what each person needed to feel better. Crowley seemed to need a single pad, a few words, not much more. At least, that was what he showed. As he turned his head to Aziraphale, there seemed to be tears filling his eyes, but a small smile on his face. He placed a soft kiss on his angel’s hand, which gave him chills. 

‘Crowley’ he murmured.

There was a sweetness in his voice, and to him, it felt like his heart melted right then. The demon took his other hand delicately in his. A kiss. Then another. One more on the back of his angel’s hand. He who was kissed blushed and sighed, definitely pleased. His eyes beamed with relish. Crowley noticed. 

‘Follow me, my dear boy. I have something to show you’ Aziraphale said as he got up.

The two walked towards the backroom of the bookshop. The fair haired one guided his friend to a private desk in which he opened a drawer. What he got out were papers folded and tied together. They looked to be at least 300 years old, a bit rumpled and smelled similar to the oldest books Aziraphale had in his shop. Somehow, it felt comforting. He turned to his friend and brushed the texture of the paper with the tip of his fingers. Crowley leaned in and touched it as well.

‘If you can recall, back in 1601 you and I were critiquing Hamlet together at the Globe theater. And even though you did not fancy it all, you still helped it gain fame. I am still, to this day, grateful for that.’

‘No, angel, you don’t need-’

‘Please Crowley, listen’ the angel continued. He breathed in deeply ‘Anyway, since we had decided for me to go to Edinburgh and you had made such a nice gesture, I reckoned that I should do something nice for you’

He handed his dear boy the papers he held in his hands. There was just enough time to open it as Aziraphale continued telling the story.

‘I met Anthony Holborne in London as I returned from my voyage. I kindly requested him to write me a ballad in honor of my dear old friend. I paid him a great amount for it, even though he did not really compose anymore’

And with that, Crowley saw what it was called: “About Raphael” 

It was indeed a composition to be played on cittern, with both parts of light-hearted solos and deeper, darker, descents. The ballad looked incredibly complex and beautiful. Although the cittern was not played ever again since 1800, the demon knew how delightful it would sound. The gift touched his heart and he was on the verge of crying. No one ever used his old angel name since his fall. But somehow Aziraphale this way showed him how much he mattered, and how well he knew him, from so long ago. He shed a tear as he folded it back to the way it was.

‘You didn’t have to do this’ he whispered.  
‘Oh. Do you…not like it?’ the angel appeared worried.

To answer, Crowley jumped into his friend’s arms, clutching him tenderly. Surprised, but nonetheless happy, his friend responded to the embrace with just as much emotion. He felt the demon’s hand caressing the hair on the back of his head. And he thought he heard him mumble “’s perfect’. A minute passed until he asked:  
‘What?’ he broke the embrace slowly, unsure of what he heard.

Aziraphale had just enough time to look into his eyes before his friend pressed their lips together. A little bit surprised, but mostly happy, the angel responded to the kiss. Soft and loving, it seemed like it would last for hours and hours. Neither of them had kissed, nor been kissed before. They did not encounter any one they wanted to do it with either. Well, expect for each other. Aziraphale, being an angel, never felt the yearning of physical adoration. It was said to be unholy for an ethereal being to engage in such behavior. But, how could it be so wrong? How could he just go without its sweetness now that he tasted it? The passion they shared was simply so good -must he say pure. He who had never kissed, was becoming the first angel to go this far off his duty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about all the notes haha
> 
> (you'll find another part next page, it's not explicit but draws a bit of sexual energy for those of you who like it :p)


	2. Chapter 2

The embrace ceased for a few minutes. Both panting, staring into one another’s eyes, did not entirely realize what was happening. It was a mixture of familiar and strange that they just discovered. Obviously, they were very far from stopping at that. And given where they were standing, it could not get any less comfortable. Aziraphale started to look around for a nice place, followed by the demon. For a brief moment he had completely forgotten how he acquired new furniture over the last 10 years. And there was a size-appropriate bed he bought specifically because Crowley would get drunk and crash at his shop, for some reason. He was not really sure he remembered, given his state the morning after. Well. At least there was a comfortable place in the bookshop that did not require to sit straight. And that’s exactly what went through Aziraphale’s mind as he stepped into the private back room. This one could be locked, contrary to the one that had his secret [small] desk. His demon stepped in as well, a satisfied smirk on his face. He started unbuttoning his shirt, back turned to his friend. He faced him finally as he was half-way into taking it off.

The angel closed the door and smiled cheekily. And since he knew how Crowley liked having a bit of control, he would let him undress him. And as he approached, the demon grabbed his face for another passionate kiss. The fair haired one stroke his back as they kissed, sliding slowly down his hips. They parted lips for the yellow-eyed one to take his shirt off. He could not help but look at him, look at his beautiful beauty. His sweet Aziraphale might not know how sublime he thought he was. He was going to show him. Carefully having taken off their shoes, they reunited for more kisses. On their lips, their necks, their chest… The fair angel grabbed his demon and threw him on the bed.

‘Oh, hell’ Crowley moaned as Aziraphale crept up on him.

The latter giggled before kissing his lips hastily. The air began to heat up more with each kiss and each caress. They undressed fully and finally made skin on skin contact, with their bodies colliding in a gracious dance. It felt like the bed set on fire and only their embrace kept them from meeting their end. Seemed like the demon had successfully corrupted him, even outside of his hellish duties. This time it was selfish in another way than what was expected of his side.   
Aziraphale felt a rush of desire flow through his body and this led him to want to do bad things to the demon’s. Then his devilish friend rolled him on the side to kiss him all over his chest. He caressed his skin and started giving licks over it from neck to bellybutton. But right as he seemed to want to go downwards, the angel stopped him, and then went down himself. And as he did so and reached for his crotch, Crowley lost his mind, almost blacking out. 

He came back to his senses moments later, as he felt an intense orgasm take control of him, but without making a sound. Then his body completely relaxed under his angel’s sweet touch. He could finally breathe easier. His lovely friend crawled back up to his level and left a kiss on his forehead. He could not help but smile as his lover sighed in satisfaction. Crowley pulled him closer by his waist, stroking the skin of his sweet plump body, as Aziraphale had a hand on his chin, looking at him lovingly. This moment was exquisite, with them lying this close together.

‘Can you believe angels cannot do this sort of thing?’

‘Such a waste’ the demon said. ‘Why waste this pretty mouth on prayers and choirs?’ 

They giggled and shared the sweetest kiss, feeling at peace. They could easily stay like this forever, which would not be impossible for them. After all, Crowley had slept for a good part of the 19th century, which he liked to brag about. Aziraphale saw no real interest in sleeping so long, nor sleeping for a whole night either, but for Crowley he could let himself go a little. For once, he had the strength to show his feelings. And, so did his lover.

‘What if I get thrown out of Heaven? Would that be so painful?’ he asked.

‘Do you really want to stay there?’

‘Not really sure. I have had such a wonderful time on Earth so far, my side doesn’t even matter that much anymore’ he stated, a bit sad. They stayed a moment in silence. The situation was not yet doomed in regards to their positions, but Aziraphale could not help but worrying still. He found a way to breathe deeply and relax again, focusing on the face he was looking at.

‘I love you’ Crowley murmured.

Then they sealed the proposition with a kiss, before falling asleep in each other’s arms peacefully.


End file.
